


Vows Under the Red Tree

by gyuglued



Series: after everything we have been through, the gods led me back to you [3]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternative Universe - Kingdom, Another attempt at Sexual Tension, M/M, Mentions of Death, Mentions of past abuse, OR IS IT, Political Marriage, Politics, Resurrection, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:21:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28844508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gyuglued/pseuds/gyuglued
Summary: The people have lined up and made a path for him to walk through. Jihoon straightens his back and raises his chin, he rehearsed this a couple of times in the past, when he was little and was giddy to marry.It was a stupid kids game but now that he’s here – walking through a sea of people and smiling at them, seeing how the path ends in a red tree, and seeing the man at the end standing – waiting for him.Mingyu waiting for him at the end of the path.Nothing has changed from what he hoped for.
Relationships: Kim Mingyu/Lee Jihoon | Woozi
Series: after everything we have been through, the gods led me back to you [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024548
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	1. Vows Under the Red Tree

_"Tonight then."_

_"Tonight."_

"My Lord?"

Jihoon snaps out of his reverie to see Minghao expectantly looKing at him from across the room. The man has been shuffling all the time. He has been folding clothes and shining shoes.

_Tonight._

"Yes?" Jihoon replies to the inquiry of his friend.

Minghao tilts his head, "Are you all right, my lord? You have been spacing out. Are you unwell?"

He smiles at the concern and shakes his head, "I only need to rest for a bit. Waiting for the battle has drained my energy."

The steward gives him a tight-lipped smile, "Yes. We need to make sure you do not move much, and I will keep your mind off away from the recent events. Now, tell me. Who will give you away tonight?"

Jihoon thinks for a moment, "I never thought of that. The only family I have left is Mingyu," He picks up the tunic beside him and starts folding it like how his friend is, "And I'm marrying him."

Minghao laughs, "You are right. Well, you can consider me like family too. The King –when he was not yet crowned. Did not stop talking about you all the time when we were traveling together. And because of that, I feel as though we were friends already."

It is Jihoon's turn to huff a laugh and shake his head in embarrassment. He does have a lot more to learn about Mingyu and his travels, about Mingyu before he got the crown, four years is a lot to catch up, but he has time.

They have time now.

"You have been kind to Mingyu." Jihoon says, and the steward's hands stop, and he looks up, "You will always have a place in my home."

"That's nice. I have never been to your country before, or to any castle ever."

Jihoon nods, "I'll show you every room and every corner."

"Yes. But before that." Minghao raises the cape in his hands.

Jihoon smiles, "Yes."

When Minghao leaves him to do a different task for tonight's event, Jihoon ends up fiddling with a book, not quite reading it when something else is entirely on his mind. He wants to ease his heart of the nervous energy buzzing in his body the moment Mingyu – just remembering his name is enough to make his heart skip. He wrings his hands in an attempt to calm his body while his mind takes him back to his mother's words, of what his mother has told him all that there is to do before a wedding.

Be polite, smile at everyone and never forget to greet them with their proper titles, do not initiate the wedding kiss, and lastly, be silent during the bedding. The Queen mother envisioned a wedding inside a church, with all the family and the South's houses.

But this wedding tonight is entirely different.

Jihoon is marrying in the middle of an army camp, in the middle of the war and getting married to Mingyu.

He doubts he will ever follow all that his mother said.

Heavy footsteps stop him, and he whirls around and sees Mingyu saunter inside the tent, all the grime and blood of the battle washed off of him.

_Be calm. Be calm. Be calm._

He swallows before he could speak, "What did they say?"

Mingyu took a moment to respond, and he curtly nods, "No one opposed,"

Jihoon raises a brow, "Even House Jeon?"

"Not even him. He had an ear-splitting grin when I left." Mingyu starts to rub his neck, "He must have known this would happen."

"He is not the only one." Jihoon scoffs, and he releases his tight grip of the wooden table to walk to his bed, only almost tripped once on the short distance. He grabs a piece of cloth from the bed and unrolls it for Mingyu to see.

The King walks up to him and begins to feel the fabric, "You have your cloak,"

"They began to make me one because they had a feeling a wedding would happen."

"And you never gave me my cloak back." Mingyu supplies, but there is no ire in his tone, only playfulness.

Jihoon shrugs as he avoids eye-contact for he might grip his cloak a little tighter, and he does not want the cloak to crease. He needs to reply, but all he can think to respond is that the cloak makes him safe, and he needs not spill all of his feelings hours before the wedding.

He'll do it after.

"Here." Jihoon hands him the long and heavy cloak he has held all this time, "You will have to have this for the ceremony later. And I need mine, for I need something to cloak you with."

Mingyu does not respond and only gives him another curt nod.

Jihoon shifts and feigns looKing outside, "The camp seems lively,"

The King looks away and coughs, "They are preparing for the ceremony,"

"Ah."

"Well, I should go."

"Yes." It's Jihoon's turn to give a curt nod.

"I will see you later?"

Jihoon chuckles, "Yes, your majesty. You will."

Mingyu parts with him but never not without leaving him a smile. Jihoon gives him one last nod and collapses on the bed. The King has a cut on his cheek, but it only makes him a lot more charming.

Jihoon can't breathe, and he does not think he can follow his mother's words.

No. Not when the one he's marrying is Mingyu.

When Minghao calls him from the outside of his tent, he knows it is time. He begins by taKing a deep breath and tying the strings that hold his cloak together. For the last time, he looks at himself in the mirror and purses his lips, he begins walKing to the exit of the tent, and from there, he already can see the gathered subjects.

The people have lined up and made a path for him to walk through. Jihoon straightened his back and raised his chin. He rehearsed this a couple of times in the past when he was little and was giddy to marry. It was a stupid kid's game, but now that he's here, walking through a sea of people and smiling at them when he passes by, seeing how the path ends in a red tree, and seeing the man at the end standing – waiting for him.

Nothing has changed from what he hoped for.

Jihoon walks, and he sees the people watch him stride, all familiar and some bringing with them a little feature from the people of the South; some are not, but he makes sure to get them all the comfort they would need. He sees House Jeon's people, and his eyes lands on Wonwoo, smiling with an eyebrow raised, which Jihoon replies with a smile equally just as bright.

When he is near, he tries his best to glance at the septon under the tree, but his eyes glue on to Mingyu, who has changed into a different tunic. His hair is a little bit different too. Before Jihoon realizes, he has come to the end of his walk and is face to face with the King.

He turns so they could face each other, and Jihoon could not help but smile, "You washed your hair."

Mingyu scowls and touches his hair, "I'm getting married to you. Of course, I'm going to wash my hair."

Their attention is cut when the Septon coughs, and both of them whip around to face the man.

"If you will, your majesty?"

He can see Mingyu nod in his peripheral view, and Jihoon tries his best not to bark out in laughter, he then felt a hand ghosting over his, and he does not waste time to lace it with his own.

Even Mingyu's hand is warm.

The Septon then smiles at the both of them and begins by clearing his throat, "My lords, my ladies, we stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of King Mingyu and Lord Jihoon. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever."

Jihoon feels the grip on his hand tighten, and he holds on tight just the same. There is no going back after this, he would like to think that Mingyu only married him for advantage, but the thumb – Mingyu's thumb, which is maKing soothing circles on his hand says otherwise. This is Mingyu, the man who died for him and lived for him.

He will make sure he is worthy.

The Septon then carries on with the ceremony, and he starts praying to the seven gods, reading what words there are in the book that he is holding, and then he goes on about the importance of the union. The words pass through Jihoon's ear to the other, he feels like floating, and the hand that encloses his own is the only thing keeping him on the ground.

"You may now cloak him and bring him under your protection."

Jihoon, a little bit startled that it has come to this part, begins to untie the cloak draped around himself and turns to his right and watches as Mingyu unties his own. He reaches for his own at a slow speed, thinking how they are about to do this, given that the man in front of him is built like a tree. He huffs a breath, but before he could think, the King of the South kneels on the ground, with both knees on the ground.

"What are you doing?" Jihoon whisper-shouts, has not looked up, his head is still bowed, and Jihoon can feel the fealty of the whole act, but also he is plain shocked.

A King does not kneel!

He breathes out, a shaky one. To the audience, this looks like what it implies; the mysterious man who came back from the dead is kneeling in front of Jihoon, entailing that his loyalty and fealty is all for him even after marriage.

But again, Mingyu could have implied it in words!

Jihoon feels like kneeling is too much.

He feels flushed.

Jihoon grips the cloak and slowly drapes it around the – unbelievably broad shoulders of Mingyu. He then ties it just by the neck, and his hand must have a mind of its own, for it cups the King's chin and pulls it up to look at his eyes.

Jihoon then sees the man's eyes and realizes that Mingyu is just as nervous as he is. There, in front of all of their subjects, Jihoon at that point can say that he has once again fallen in love. Maybe not totally fallen off the ledge, but in his heart, he knew that if the roles were reversed, he would also raise an army to get this man back.

The Septon coughs again, and Jihoon is reminded that they are at a wedding. His wedding, and they are in front of his people, he slides his hand of the King's chin and grabs both of his shoulders to stand.

The Septon looks at them with an understanding smile, "I will need to tie your hands now, your majesty."

"Yes. Of course."

Mingyu is clearing his throat, and Jihoon is holding back another giggle. Now they are face-to-face and with hands holding each other; the Septon reaches over them and tying both of their hands with the white cloth.

"Let it be known that House Lee and House Kim are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder."

A moment was given for anyone to oppose, and when the moment passed with no one shouting out their grievances of the union, the Septon nods at the people and them both.

"In the eyes of the old gods and the new, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon each other and say the words,"

Jihoon practiced this a long time ago. When he was young, and he was a kid. He practiced saying these words with the same man in front of him, and now they are here. He begins by saying the name of the gods, and Mingyu follows. Every word earns him a squeeze on the hand.

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger…"

Jihoon breathes in, "I am his, and he is mine. From this day until the end of my days."

He sees Mingyu bask the words by closing his eyes, to open them only to stare at his, "I am yours, and you are mine. From this day until the end of my days."

Jihoon's mouth begins to tremble, and his eyes start to water.

Yes. Until his last breath, Mingyu is his.

The people are singing, dancing, eating, and arm wrestling, while some are passed out drunk in their seats. Jihoon has danced with every lord who has asked him, and he has told his last partner that he needed to sit down because his feet are dying for rest; he massages them both and smiles at the King who also has returned from dancing.

Mingyu approaches him with an equally tired smile, "Are you okay?"

Jihoon nods and switches the foot on his leg to massage the other one, "I may have danced vigorously in one of the sets."

"We can go and retire if you would like." Mingyu extends his hand, palm open and inviting.

Jihoon could only stare at it for a moment as he eyes the hand, and his eyes wander to the crowd. He has seen the tradition, and now he worries for the next thing. His throbbing feet have longed lost the throbbing pain, and his heart has started beating quicker, with his mind growing worried every second.

Better to get this over with.

So he nods and takes Mingyu's hand.

The King smiles at him and hoists him up, the other arm instantly going to his waist, and Jihoon only got a second to realize that his feet are still very sore. He hears and _feels_ Mingyu coughing to take the attention of everyone. And he did, the clanking of the tankards immediately stop, and the musicians halt the instruments' playing. Even the little ones have stopped running—all eyes on them at the center of the festivity.

Here it comes, if Jihoon remembers it well. All the men and women will have to rip out their clothes up until the both of them are to arrive the tent.

He closes his eyes and readies for the onslaught of grabbing hands.

"Enjoy the festivities, my lords and ladies. We will now retire to our tent." Mingyu says with a voice so loud that it ensures that even the farthest can hear.

The crowd goes wild in an instant, the clanking of the utensils is back, and this time it is louder along with the shouting of men and women—all in the joy of what to happen next.

Jihoon feels Mingyu's arm tighten around his waist, and he begins walKing, "No need to worry, no Septon would enter the tent. I told them we would not follow the tradition of bedding."

Jihoon continues walKing, gripping the arms that are supporting his walk. His mouth is in awe, and a laugh spills out, "That explains no one tried to rip out our clothes."

"Tradition be damned,"

The tent nears, and they enter the candle lights' warm welcome. Jihoon sees the bed, and he points for the pillow looks inviting for his sore feet and tired body. Mingyu guides him carefully as if he would break if he lets go. Mingyu sets him down and proceeds to fiddle with the bed's cloth.

"I could not let them touch you,"

Jihoon gives him a knowing smile and seeing how the King is nervous just riles him more. He inches a little bit closer, and the action made the King look at him. "But you can?"

"What?" Mingyu's neck cranes away from the closeness, "I did not—"

"I am only playing your majesty." Jihoon jests, and he watches as Mingyu's shoulders ease down and relax.

It is too easy to rile up the King.

Mingyu lets out a broken laugh and clasps his hand, "I will let you rest, my dear."

Jihoon grabs the nearest of the man's hand before he could adequately think, "Wait— you're leaving?"

The King slumps on the ground in front of him, "Well, that was the plan."

"You can't go out yet," Jihoon says, his voice a little high than usual, and he clears his throat. "They would think that you have not… have not."

He can't say it.

"Consummated the marriage?" The King finishes for him.

Jihoon could only nod and stare at the man.

The King furrows his brows, "That’s strange.” He thought for a moment and stared back at Jihoon. “I thought you were the one who is going to consummate the marriage?”

“Mingyu!” Jihoon shouts in shock.

The King barks a big and loud laugh, and a one and the one that his eyes disappear and his cheeks look full. Jihoon could only scowl back and pull his legs on the bed, his feet do not hurt that much anymore, and only annoyance is on his mind.

“I’m only teasing. We will talk about that later.” The King says, and he clears his throat to stop from laughing again, “If you wish for me to stay, I will. You need only to ask.”

“Stay,” Jihoon replies almost too eagerly, and he supplies, “They made the bed bigger than what I’m used to; surely they intended for the both of us to fit.”

Mingyu obliges and laughs, “Very well. Let me remove all of these first.” He begins to unbutton his tunic; he starts by tugging at a sleeve, then at the hem, slipping his head back inside the shirt briefly before shaKing the remaining cloth off of him, leaving only the undergarments on, and he effortlessly slides himself on the bed just beside Jihoon.

“What do you suggest we do?”

Jihoon swallows and hangs his mouth open, too mesmerized to reply for a moment. And then he proceeds to shake his head to take back his bearing, “Tell me everything about you. I wish to know what I missed.”

Mingyu arches a brow, “Minghao has not told you everything?”

“He left some for you to say. Now, you have to tell me. I am your husband now.”

“You are always good at making me do things.”

“That is correct.”

Mingyu adjusts himself so they are face-to-face lying down on the bed and he carefully take one of Jihoon’s hand. “Let us start here.” He gently places a hand over his heart. Jihoon breathes in deep because of the thin fabric he can feel a wound. A healed one.

“This was what ended my life, this wound right here.”

“Mingyu—”

Jihoon’s hand is dragged yet again and this time on the other side of Mingyu’s chest. He feels another scar, “Here, I was stabbed because he told me I’m a traitor.”

The hand moved again near his shoulder, “Here, for foolishly thinKing we can get you back.”

“Why are you telling me this?” He panics for a bit, fingers clasping the only cloth covering all the damages. He feels like crying for all the hurt that Mingyu has gone through for him.

Mingyu huffs and tilts his head a bit, looking like the question is absurd, “I do not miss the way you stare. I know you wanted to know, and now that we’re married, it meant that I have to tell you soon, and I just thought a while ago that it’s time.”

“I do not stare.”

“Now that is a lie,” Mingyu accuses with a chuckle and a finger pointing at him.

“Mingyu, can I ask?”

The King lowers down his finger and turns somber, “Go on. Anything.”

“How did you come back to life?”

The King nods and breathes in deep, “Well, there was this woman who proclaimed to be a witch. She followed our cause, saying I was this savior that her god has sent to the earth to do god knows what. She said she would do anything to make me King.”

Jihoon moves to be closer, listening to every word with no distraction. This was what boggled him long ago, and now he is to hear it. And to think there is a woman involved, he is more interested now.

“And there I was, gathered a force, had the blessing of Septons to be held as King. And when I died, she did something, some spells and prayers to bring me back to life.”

“And she did.”

“I never wanted that,” Mingyu replies, so low that it sounded like a murmur. “And Minghao did not stop her,”

Jihoon’s hand is back on the wound on the other’s chest, “I could not blame him. How long—”

“Two days,” Mingyu replies as he rubs his eyes and grunts; the memory too vivid and too vague.

“That’s too long. What was there, Mingyu? What did you see?”

“Nothing. I saw nothing but pitch black, just like your hair, and then I saw a bright light, and then the next thing I know, I woke up gasping. It was hard to breathe, and my lungs burned for air.”

Jihooon closes his eyes and tries to imagine the pain, “I am so sorry you went through that.”

“It was worth it. I got you in the end.”

Jihoon smiles at him and rolls his eyes, “Do not jest. Mingyu, do you sleep?”

The King smiles a bit, “I do, but it is hard. If I close my eyes, I am back to that place, and I loathe it. Now that I have you back, there is much more reason not to travel to that place again.”

Jihoon feels his heart crack

“I have been sleeping well ever since I came here, and it pains me to know that you are worried about these.”

“It will get better, I hope. Now that they made this bed for the both of us.”

“Yes. You have exceptionally long legs.”

“I do. Thank you for noticing. Like, what you always do.”

Mingyu proceeds to take his balled fists – balled because of the embarrassment and place them just right under his chin.

“I do not stare,” Jihoon repeats for good measure, and the soothing circles that Mingyu is doing on his balled fists will not make his accusations pass. “And you are not so innocent on this matter people have been telling me you are possessive.”

The King raises a brow, the ends of his mouth turning upward in interest, “Pray tell what they say.”

“You put my tent next to yours, even when we were not yet married.”

The King nods, and the soothing thumb stops only for his hands to travel from Jihoon’s shoulders down to his chest.

Jihoon tries his best not to make an audible gasp; he did not realize how close they were.

He is still accusing the King! He will not get distracted!

“They…”

The hands are on his waist now, and Jihoon thinks he will _lose_ his mind.

“They said that the cloak I was wearing looked like you were already putting me under your protection.”

“Yes.” Mingyu replies, and one of his thumb presses on his waist – on the exposed skin of the one he has trapped on the bed.

Jihoon shrieks – it is what’s best to describe the sound he makes, and by immediately realizing what he has done, his hand instantly hovers over his mouth. He does not do anything, only stare for a moment, waiting for what the other would do with the hand on his waist. But then Mingyu has not done anything, and Jihoon has gathered his will and voice to reply.

“And they told me you stare.”

Mingyu hums again, pressing his thumb another time, and Jihoon instinctively grabs the man’s arms as he waits for the reply.

“Well, they are not wrong on that. I used not to be able to.”

“Not be able to what?”

“Stare at you unabashedly.” Mingyu supplies, “When we were young, I could not stare at you, especially on your namedays. If I did, the other lords might presume the wrong implications.”

Jihoon feels flush from nose to ears; he disregarded drinking ale for he cannot stand it at all, but hearing and touching Mingyu is giving him the same rush.

It is different now; before they were younger, honor always stopped Mingyu, whoever second-guessed every action with Jihoon. But now that honor is not in the way, Jihoon fears he might not survive what lines the King would dare cross.

And Jihoon will let him. He realizes as he detaches his grip from the other’s arm, and Mingyu takes it as a sign to continue his quest.

Of whatever he was doing.

“They are right, and I might have been a little possessive,” Mingyu replies while staring into his eyes.

Jihoon gets trapped in his stare, the traveling hand has gone under Jihoon’s tunic, and he can feel his palm caress his back.

The King’s eyes wander to his lips for a second, and he replies, “I realized I do not like sharing.”

Jihoon swallows hard and does not move or breathe. He does not know what to do, what to think. All his mind could process is the hand displayed on his back, the warmth of Mingyu’s palm radiating, and the wandering eyes with no shame.

He finds his voice somewhere deep in his throat to ask, “But you never asked me to dance.”

“You would have shown everyone that you favored me.” The King replies with a grin, “Your mother couldn’t have that. You would lose your prospects.” He sighs, and the hand on Jihoon’s back stills, “I wonder what your mother and father would say about this arrangement.”

Jihoon breaks their eye-contact only to rolls his eyes.

When Jihoon was young, his father promised him that someday, he would be married to someone brave, kind, and strong. But in the end, his father, for all his words to him – failed when Jihoon was to be wed to someone from the east. That even after knowing all the horrible truths about that man, his father still chose honor and wed Jihoon to a monster.

And Jihoon is done thinking about his father.

“He did say he hoped that I get married to someone brave, kind, and strong.” Jihoon recalls, and he proceeds to cup the King’s cheek, “You are more than those three combined. You have a pretty face too. I think I won.”

“I will sure to be of your standards, even when—”

“Mingyu, not again.” Jihoon groans, “Do not put yourself down. You are enough. What will you feel if I kept bringing myself down?”

“Object,” Mingyu replies in a whisper.

“There, that is how I feel when you mope.”

“I do not mope,” Mingyu replies louder this time, emphasizing each word.

Jihoon flicks his forehead in return, “The creases in your forehead says otherwise.” He gasps and retracts his hand on Mingyu’s cheek, “Mingyu, turn and lay down flat on the bed. The wound on your cheek is bleeding.”

The King quickly follows the request and touches his chin, “Is it?”

Jihoon swats his hand, “Your hand is dirty, stay there and do not move.”

“What a wedding night we both have.” Mingyu chuckles.

Jihoon rolls and swings his legs off the cot to find them well and not hurting anymore, “The only thing lacking this event was the pie our Old nan used to make.” He looks around the tent and spots the vial on the table, he walks to fetch a clean cloth from a rack, and then he kneels on the side of the cot just beside Mingyu’s head, “The healer gave this to me, and I have been using it well, now stay still. We do not want this to get infected.”

“This cut will leave a scar,” Mingyu utters.

Jihoon scoffs and begins to wipe the bleeding wound with the cloth, “You are still irritably handsome.” He disposes the fabric and scoops enough cream to _oh so gently_ smear it on the King’s cheek, “Your whole face will compensate for this loss.”

“That is why you married me, isn’t it,” Mingyu asks with a wide grin.

“Yes, my love. Your face and your title are what I’m after.”

Mingyu barks out in laughter, and Jihoon follows suit; the music outside has not stopped, nor the merry shout and noises of people mingling and laughing.

What a night indeed.

Jihoon could not tell how he fell asleep on his wedding night. Still, all he can remember are tight arms around his waist, a hard chest to lay his forehead on when the man with him tells a joke that did not end well, whispers about promises and hopes, and lastly, a tender kiss to his forehead as the candlelight fades with the noise from the outside.


	2. The Battle of HornHill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gods are on their side.

The South's road has a different smell that Jihoon immediately recognized when they crossed the border. The forest smell hits him, the crisp and green scent reminiscent of early dawn dew. The scent of the familiar trees that only grow in the south hits his nose, and he nearly broke into tears. The entire army is on horseback and has been traveling for a week, only stopping to get an ample amount of rest, and then it is back on the road.

Jihoon is sore from the riding. Many have offered that he ride in the carriages, but he dismissed them, saying that he should experience this with everyone else. After all, it is rather fun to see the King lead the troops. He realized that he has to catch up on every little detail that he missed about Mingyu, and he also has admitted he has not changed much.

They are two more days until they reach the country's principal capital and have decided to rest to regroup and hunt for food. The Lords are beginning to plan for the possibility of whether the one on the throne will not give up his seat and if they are to sack the castle.

The tents are up, the campfires are lit, and the people have assumed the tasks they are to do.

Jihoon is in his shared tent with the King, writing a letter for the houses that they will have to win back for a peaceful trip back to the Kingdom. He made sure to mention that he is alive, well, and married to the true King of the South. He finishes one and moves on to write for the next house on his list, but he stops his quill when he reads the inscription.

_House Kwon._

He puts the quill down and looks around; the name is familiar and painful. His thoughts come to a halt when he hears footsteps behind him, and he whips around to see the King entering the tent. Mingyu is in the middle of taking off his gloves, and when he looks up to Jihoon, his hands stop mid-air.

“What’s wrong?”

Jihoon breathes out and shakes his head, “I have run out of words.”

Mingyu raises a brow, eyeing him and the parchments on the table. “I did suggest that you only do one and let Minghao copy the rest.”

Jihoon rises from his seat, “And I told you that each letter should be different so they would know our sincerity. Winning back the people’s trust is easy when the alternative is the one ruling it right now, but that does not mean that we should not try.”

Mingyu smiles and walks closer to cup his face, “I know.”

Jihoon smiles and leans on his palm, “Are you done with your gathering?”

“Yes. I came here to drag you to eat. That will replenish your mind, now come.”

  
  


Eating food was an excellent distraction to Jihoon because each time they eat together, Minghao tells stories of his country. And on rare occasions, he would let Jihoon ask what story he wants to hear – Jihoon always chooses to hear more of Minghao and Mingyu’s journey together and how they met. The steward is passionate in his storytelling, which is rather captivating to each table. Wonwoo looks like he does not believe that Minghao wrestled with a boar and won. Minghao - in the middle of re-enacting the scene, stopped when two soldiers approached the table.

“Your Majesty,” the soldier bows to Mingyu, and he turns to bow to Jihoon. “We have received letters. Each addressed to you two.”

Jihoon glances at Mingyu, and the both of them receive the parchment. Jihoon swallows upon seeing the seal. The other one different from the other.

“Who sent it?” Wonwoo asks as he places his spoon down and folds his hand on the table. Minghao does the same and looks over at the King and him.

“This one is from the keep,” Mingyu says and turns to Jihoon.

“Read it.”

“Here?”

“Yes.”

Jihoon feels his heartbeat out of his chest, and the emblem brings him fear, for this is the house that sacked his own, slaughtered the people loyal to him, and has brought pain to his people. He sees the table grow solemn and all merry gone, all of them now focusing on the parchment that Mingyu is un-rolling.

Mingyu breathes in hard and begins reading, “To the traitor Kim Mingyu, you gathered troops from the houses of the south for your stupid cause. You have betrayed your kind, you have betrayed the South. The capital is mine, bastard, come and see.”

“The King of the East wants Lee Jihoon back—”

Jihoon looks up to see Mingyu’s jaw locked and lips in a thin line.

“Go on.” Jihoon urges.

“The King of the East wants Lee Jihoon back, send him to me, and I will take him to the King, and I will not trouble you and your lost cause. Keep him from me, and I will slaughter each of the men and women behind your army. Lord and Warden of the South.”

Mingyu throws the paper to the table and looks at Wonwoo. “How many men does he have in his army?”

“I heard he has five-thousand,” Jihoon speaks, and the table turns to him. “That was when I was still in the east, and soldiers mentioned it in passing. How many do you have?”

“We just got back from a fight.” Wonwoo replies, “All those that can fight are not more than 3,000.”

Jihoon faces Mingyu and takes his hand, “A monster has taken our home and our people. We have to get it back.”

Mingyu grips his hand in reply, “I told you, we will get our Kingdom back.”

Jihoon does not hear anything after that, his mind has become blurry, and his hand grips the other letter that he has yet to read. The table has been cleared out; the people are once again preparing for the battle.

Mingyu’s wounds have not even fully healed.

He needs to get it together. After this, if they win, there would be no more bloodshed. Not from his family, not from his people. He briskly walks back to his tent, still gripping the piece of paper. His hands are sweating, and his mind is buzzing at the noise the camp has begun making.

The once peaceful camp is now in disarray with the noise of armor and the noise of metal.

Once he arrives at his tent, he immediately opens the letter, trying his best to absorb each letter and each word. The eldest of House Kwon wants to meet, and he wants them to meet and talk. About what? Jihoon breathes hard and heavy; he needs to do something.

Something to help Mingyu.

An idea forms in his mind.

All his time in the East has trained him to be swift and smart to survive.

This will help them survive.

“Jihoon,”

He whips around and sees Mingyu, who seemed to have followed him to the tent and is eyeing the letter on his hand.

“Who sent it?”

“House Kwon, the eldest son wants to meet.”

The King tenses and starts walKing – stomping to the table, “What more can he say after everything he failed to do.”

“I don’t know,” He replies. “But I will meet him.”

“What?” Mingyu abruptly stops fiddling with the things on the table and turns, “Jihoon, you can’t. I won’t let you.”

“I want to go,” Jihoon replies firmly.

Mingyu begins walKing to the sword lying on the side of the tent, and he adjusts the belt that holds it, “If you are going then you are bringing me.”

“My King! Pardon me, my King.” A soldier calls from outside. “The Lords are looking for you, and they said it is about the battle for tomorrow. It seems that the capital has sent another letter.”

Mingyu curses under his breath.

“Go.” Jihoon says.

“But you are meeting him, I have to be there.”

Jihoon grabs the King’s hands, “And you need to perform your duties. I will bring someone else with me.”

The King sighs and curses again, “Take fifteen of my good soldiers. Do not forget your blade.”

“Yes. Mingyu, be careful.”

The King kisses his forehead swiftly, “You too, love.”

“And Mingyu?”

“Yes?”

“I need to borrow Wonwoo.”

Jihoon only sucked a deep breath before stepping inside the old wooden shed. He is with fifteen soldiers surrounding the place, and not one has seen any other that might have been guarding the person he is about to meet. Maybe there is no one here, and he is fooled once again.

He follows a path, with only Wonwoo trailing behind him, and stops as he hears rustling on one of the rooms. He gently pushes the door, and bit by bit, he sees the man inside.

The very moment Jihoon sees him is like what one sees when he is about to die. All the memories of life come crashing down on the very second you draw your last breath but in this instance. All Jihoon remembers is his time in the East and all his pain.

His wounds start throbbing. He recalls all the time he was shrieking of pain until he was sure his lungs would burst. He remembers when he was left all alone, in the east.

The eldest son of House Kwon turns, and their eyes meet. He glances at Jihoon and spares a second at the other man present in the room. He is paler than the rest of him, his eyes wide and surprised.

“Why are you here?”

“I want to apologize, Jihoon—”

“You were supposed to be my friend. You were there when my father got executed, and you did nothing.” Jihoon does not feel anything but rage; he remembers his father and all the people he held dear. All gone, in front of him.

“I— am your friend!”

Jihoon uncurls his hand, “And all those times I was beaten, you only stood to watch.”

“Jihoon—”

“I was begging for your help, and you did not extend your hand.” His whole body rings at the memory; Jihoon does not try to blink. One second of darkness might make him remember, might make his memory picture everything.

“I can still feel it Soonyoung, I can feel what he did to me, to my body.”

“I’m sorry.” The man’s voice cracks. “I am a coward. I know I was wrong. I… I do not know what to do to earn back your trust. I do not know why I am here, but I know I want to apologize.”

Jihoon swallows.

“Please… I will do anything to earn back your trust.”

“There is to be a battle tomorrow, and the monster on the throne wants us dead; how convenient is it that you appear, after everything you failed to do. You want to earn back my trust?”

“We fear for our people Jihoon,” Soonyoung takes a step forward, and the man behind Jihoon moves and takes his step closer as well.

Soonyoung glances and stays where he is upon glancing at the man, “They do not want to be under his leadership. He reigns in terror, and he cuts people’s heads without so much of a thought. We are afraid, and our people plead to have him out of the keep.”

Jihoon inwardly seethes, he needed to do what is right for the people of the South, including even working with the House that betrayed him. The subjects should not pay for the sins of their master; he stands by that.

But he is not alone in deciding in this war.

“I’m not sure that Mingyu will like that Soonyoung.”

“Mingyu?” Soonyoung stills and his brows pulled into the slightest of frowns, “So he is alive.”

“He leads our army.”

“So the rumors are true; he did come back from the dead. Is he a normal man?”

“We are not here to catch up Soonyoung, listen to me closely. Do as I say, and I would consider letting you even speak to me again.”

Jihoon could not recount the last time his head ever ached like this; he massages his temple and prays for relief. This is not the time to get a headache, not when home is near, and victory against the usurper is within their grasp. His rubbing stops when suddenly there are heavy footsteps just right outside his tent. He looks up and sees Mingyu walk in and is in the middle of hastily taKing his cloak off and tossing it to a table.

“The parley did nothing. I offered to fight one on one with him.”

The statement stops Jihoon in his poor attempt at nursing a headache, “You what!”

Mingyu raised a hand in defiance and dragged a chair to sit on, “But he knew we had fewer men, and he is sure of his victory. How are you, my dear?”

Jihoon follows him and drags a chair of his own, “I have a headache, and now it has gotten worse with how you handle your life.”

Mingyu could only give him a sound of fake laughter, and he begins to rub his temples. Jihoon sighs and reaches out to pick the parchment on the table; he clears his throat to get the King’s attention.

“Here.”

“What is this?”

“It is a written decree…” Jihoon carefully states, hands folding into his lap. He has made this decision without consulting Mingyu and his plans, and he fears that the other might not appreciate the act.

“What for?” Mingyu asks, but he is already eyeing the paper from start to finish.

“That House Kwon will lend their army to us to fight and get our castle back. I know we lack men, and we cannot do this without more help.”

Mingyu looks up to him with ire in his eyes, “And you believe his words?”

“I don’t. And that is why he needs to gain back our trust by slowly working for it.”

“And what has he done now?” The King asks in irritation.

Jihoon drags his chair closer and takes the King’s hands, “He agreed to marry the oldest of House Jeon. House Jeon has been loyal to us even before our parents were born, and they remain loyal to us until now; uniting them with House Kwon is advantageous to us and is a way for House Kwon to regain their credibility.”

It is his turn to draw soothing circles on the hard and calloused hands of the King; he knew that the growing irritation and lines in the King’s forehead as a result of working with the House that betrayed them, but this disagreement will have to be left in the past now.

They have to think of the present, of the battle that will happen tomorrow. His fingers brush over the King’s, and he is reminded again of the creeping battle of tomorrow. These hands will have to go through pain and suffering once more, and if only Jihoon could stop this all, he would. He finds himself memorizing each line and pattern on the King’s hand as they stare at each other.

The soothing works as he sees the King’s shoulders relax.

“He agreed to this?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t tell you if Soonyoung and Wonwoo both disagreed.” Jihoon smiles a little.

“You…” Mingyu starts, and his face forms into realization. “Was that the reason you bought Wonwoo with you?”

Jihoon shrugs, “Might have been.”

The King shook his head, half – a cooked grin on show, “You are amazing.”

“House Kwon have six-thousand men in their house Mingyu.” Jihoon states, “Now, I know that a great number does not mean a sure victory for us, but it gives us an advantage. Win the battle tomorrow.”

Mingyu brings his knuckles to his lips and kisses them firm, “Loud and clear, my love.”

Jihoon feels his consciousness at the first chill he feels from the morning air, the lack of warmth from the person next to him is also the cause, but he is lying if he would say he had a good night’s sleep. He hears the clinKing of metal, and it only needed one turn of his neck to see the cause.

The King is preparing for battle.

He sits up to rub his eyes with the heels of his palm, and as he does, his hearing and vision clear; the noise is more evident now that he is more awake, the camp is noisy, and the metal clinKing does not only come from the person near him.

Jihoon is here again.

Being able to do nothing is one thing, but waiting is the hardest part of a day’s battle.

“Did I wake you?”

He glanced at the King and found him eyeing him from where he stood. Jihoon shakes his head as he swings his feet off the cot, “Do you need help with that?”

The King looks down on his armor, “Do… you know how?”

“I can try.”

The next thing he knows, the army is ready, and they have called for the King. Jihoon swallows hard and keeps on holding on to himself, for he must appear strong in front of all his subjects. But he could feel his screaming pulse in his neck like a baby bird.

Mingyu turns to him as a soldier brings around a horse.

No. He can’t be strong anymore. He cannot hide the pain he feels, and one look from Mingyu is all it took for everything to wash over him. The King wasted no time and swallows him in his arms; Jihoon could only exhale the breath he was holding.

“Come home.” Jihoon pleads, with a wavering voice and shaKing palms.

“I will.”

Mingyu presses a kiss to his forehead just as long and hard as that one time on their wedding night. After a moment then, he regretfully detaches himself, and Jihoon has to let go.

All Jihoon could do was stand there like a statue, eyes frozen and stuck at the King's retreating form on horseback. He feels lightheaded not only because of the battle but also because he could not see or feel an ounce of fear on Mingyu, he was calm and composed. And not one sweat, not one flicker of doubt on his face.

The recent events were so mundane that Jihoon almost forgot what they say about the man who does not waver even at death’s door.

Jihoon, with the last strength he has, strolls into his tent and spots Minghao already waiting for his return.

“Minghao, do you believe in the seven gods?”

“I don’t, but I believe in a higher being. Do you want to pray?”

“Yes. Will you pray with me?”

Minghao gives him a warm smile as a reply and holds out his hand. Jihoon walks to him and kneels with him just beside the cot, and the praying begins.

Jihoon has not prayed to the seven gods for some time now; he did not feel that they heard him ever since he was captured. But for the first time in a while, he does, he remembers each word of the prayers, and he folds his hands so tight the gods must know he is desperate for Mingyu’s victory.

_Bring them all home._

The gods heard.

Minghao comes running and shares the news with tears in his eyes.

Jihoon collapses on the ground.

The camp’s horns started to make noise signaling their army's victory.

The battle of Hornhill won in the favor of King Mingyu’s army. The battle marked the turning point for Lee Jihoon to reclaim the Kingdom of the South.

**Author's Note:**

> I promised to finish this last December for some sort of farewell to 2020 but I got lazy and was so lost but now I have finished it just in time! I know everyone is busy with today’s concert but the reason I posted it today is also because it’s a gift for myself cause it’s my birthday! Wohoo! I am now twenty-three years old eeekkkk, my only wish is to never stop writing for it brings me joy. Thank you for reading <3
> 
> Also I scream about the two of them [ here](https://twitter.com/gyuglued_)


End file.
